Tuesday, May 20, 2003

For months you researched the classifieds. ("Wanted: poofreader, mst Be xclnt with grammer!!!")

You networked with everyone from unhelpful relatives ("Well, have you tried looking in the classifieds?") to telemarketers. ("No really, thank you. By the way, if you're hiring, I too have experience in marketing motivational tapes to house pets.")

You wrote tons of cover letters. ("It is my ardent desire to support SIK Co.'s mission to boost profits to two guys on a golf course in Boca Raton through increased rejection of medical insurance claims.")

You maxed out your credit cards to invest in photocopying, postage, career counseling, résumé evaluation, and -- even though you are living on Top Ramen and tap water -- a "dress for success" makeover that screams, "I am a Republican congressional candidate from the year 1986."

And now, success! You've landed a job interview. It's time to develop a winning strategy. The prize? Confinement in a tiny, windowless cubicle and prolonged exposure to people even more neurotic than you.

This is actually as far as I've read, but I already know that this writer--this Joyce McGreevy, god-love-her, feels my pain. I mean feels it. And Kriston's pain, and the pain of all my over-educated, under-employed compatriots. And for all those of you still in school, thinking (yes, i can still hear your thoughts through the sand in which your head is stuck) "It won't happen to me!" or "I got good grades" or "But I was in Plan II" or "the economy [ha!] will be better by then", in fact any of you thinking anything other than "my trust fund will see me through" or "daddy's promised a plum position at the bank," you all best read on. And take notes.

BWAHAHA

UPDATE:
Jesus Christ. I just read over that and it seems my schadenfreude was flaring up again. I've got a cream for it, don't worry. All is well. You'll all get lovely jobs and meet the man/woman of your dreams, and buy low and sell high. Mazeltov.